


as dreamers do

by oddishly



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ryan forgets how not to talk. No, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as dreamers do

It's their first break in hours and Brendon _categorically refuses_ to let Ryan sleep through it. He peers through the door of the lounge, sing-songing, 'Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.'

The figure on the couch groans. Brendon grins and walks inside the room. 'C'mon, Ross,' he chirps. 'We're going outside.'

'Don't wanna,' mumbles Ryan. 'Asleep.'

'You don't need sleep,' Brendon says. 'Sleep is for the weak. And for people whose birthdays it isn't.'

'I am weak. And my birthday was like, six weeks ago, what the fuck. I'm asleep.'

Brendon hops over the couch and lands somewhere around Ryan's stomach. Ryan yelps and shoves ineffectually at him, then opens his eyes and glares at Brendon.

Brendon smiles back with all his teeth. He reaches down and ruffles Ryan's hair affectionately. 'C'mon, Ryan,' he wheedles, 'there's something you've got to do.'

Ryan sighs exasperatedly. 'All right,' he says, rolling his eyes, 'I'll come.' Brendon beams and wiggles off Ryan's stomach, then stretches out a hand to pull him up from the couch. 'It'll be worth it,' he promises, and Ryan grumbles under his breath but keeps hold of Brendon's hand anyway.

The day was warm but it's cold now as they step onto the asphalt, and Ryan shivers slightly and draws in close to Brendon. 'What are we doing?' he asks petulantly, rubbing the hand that's not in Brendon's up and down his arm. 'Why can't we stay inside the bus?'

'Because,' says Brendon. He tips his head up. There's a smattering of stars across the sky already and Brendon grins up at them. He tightens his fingers in Ryan's and leans in close. 'I know your birthday was ages ago,' he says, lips just brushing Ryan's ear, 'but we didn't get you a cake or like, candles or anything. You didn't get to wish.'

Ryan shivers. 'So you decided to give me pneumonia instead?'

'No,' says Brendon patiently. 'I decided to get you something else to wish on.'

Ryan turns to Brendon, eyebrows raised. 'Meaning?'

Brendon nods at the sky. 'Meaning, there's going to be a meteor shower tonight,' he says. 'Or it might have already started, I don't know, but – we just have to wait long enough and you'll get your birthday wish.'

Ryan doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, 'You found me falling stars.'

Brendon smiles and tilts his head back at the sky. 'Yup,' he says cheerily, opening his eyes as wide as he can in case he misses anything. Then he frowns, looking back at Ryan. 'Shooting stars,' he says, 'not falling stars.'

Ryan blinks. Brendon watches him for a moment then looks back up at the sky. 'You won't see any if you don't look, though,' he says conversationally. 'Don't want to lose your wish, Ryan; the driver won't wait forever.'

Ryan coughs. 'Right,' he says. 'Looking.' His voice isn't quite steady.

It's barely a minute before they see the first one, blazing high and bright above them and followed immediately by two others, smaller and not as bright.

_Huh_, Brendon thinks. _Does that mean I get three wishes?_ He glances sideways.

Ryan's staring up with a strange, wistful expression on his face. Brendon lets his gaze run along the soft black sweep of Ryan's eyelashes and down the line of his nose, then back at the sky. _Gingerbread,_ he thinks. _That's what I want. Real gingerbread like Mom's._ He nods decisively then glances back at Ryan.

Ryan's watching him. He shakes his head as if to clear it when Brendon meets his eye, eyebrows raised.

'I made my wish,' Ryan says. His voice is flat but his eyes are crinkled at the corners. 'Happy?'

Brendon beams. 'Very,' he says. 'Okay, we can go back in now.'

Ryan stares at him then rolls his eyes. Brendon smiles cheerfully and shoves him up the steps, and doesn't let himself wonder what Ryan wished for.

 

*

 

'Something's up with Ryan,' Jon announces, in lieu of a good morning.

Brendon tips his head over the back of the couch to look at Jon. He's wearing a complicated sort of frown, although Brendon can't be quite sure from his upside-down position.

Spencer makes a questioning noise from the other couch.

'He's being all – weird.'

Spencer flicks his magazine onto the floor. 'Weird like how?' he asks, yawning.

'Weird like – ' Jon stops, fixing his eyes on Brendon. Brendon stares back, trying not to blink, and gives himself a point when Jon looks away at first. 'Weird like he can't stop talking, weird,' Jon says eventually.

Spencer looks unimpressed. 'Ryan can't stop talking. _Ryan._'

'Yeah, I know. Ryan. But – I don't know. It's like he's – I don't know, like he's lost his filter, or – '

'You sure you don't mean him?' Spencer jerks his head at Brendon.

Jon shakes his head. 'No,' he says slowly, thinking it through. 'No, it's Ryan, but – he's forgotten how to stop talking.'

Spencer raises his eyebrows. 'What, it's _catching_ now?'

Brendon's mouth drops open. 'Catching?' he repeats incredulously. 'Did you just call me _catching_?' Spencer smirks and doesn't reply.

'Guys,' Jon says sharply. 'This is important. I think – '

'Hey,' interrupts a voice from behind them. They all turn around to see Ryan in the doorway with his hands in his pockets.

'Ryan,' says Brendon brightly. 'Want to sit down? Jon says you're – '

'Brendon,' snaps Jon, and Brendon and Spencer glance at him in surprise. Jon ignores them. 'Hey, Ryan,' he smiles. 'Coming in?'

Ryan thinks for a moment, then says, 'Yeah. Yeah, I think I will. I'll come in and talk to you.' Spencer shoves Brendon further along the couch to give Ryan room to sit down between them. Brendon protests but shuffles sideways, then pushes himself upright and swings his legs over Ryan's knees.

No one says anything for a moment. Ryan raises his eyebrows, looking between them. 'Am I interrupting something?'

'Course not,' Jon answers immediately but can't seem to think of anything to say after it. He sends a pointed look at Brendon and Spencer. Brendon's waiting for all this unstoppable talking from Ryan, thanks, and is more than happy to sit in silence in the meantime.

He presses his toes into Ryan's thighs and Ryan looks at him, amused. 'You give me bruises, you know.'

Brendon waggles his eyebrows. 'Don't pretend like you don't like it,' he says, and edges his foot half an inch up Ryan's leg. He grins over him to Spencer.

'All right, I do,' says Ryan absently, and Brendon jerks his head back, surprised. Ryan blinks and shakes his head. 'I mean,' he says, flushing slightly, and his eyes cloud over again, 'don't stop.'

Brendon blinks. 'Um, okay,' he says, and presses his toes into Ryan's thigh again. Ryan drops his head back against the couch and lets out his breath.

Spencer clears his throat. 'Ryan,' he says, 'Ryan, what are you doing?'

'What's it look like?' Ryan answers lazily as Brendon wriggles his toes. 'I'm letting Brendon give me a massage. It's good, Spence. You'd like it. Remember when I gave you a massage that time? On that – mmm – on that old futon we found in the attic? You _really_ liked that massage. Don't know why, I wasn't very good at it. D'you remember?'

Brendon looks across at Spencer. His eyebrows are drawn together and his cheeks are pink. Brendon catches his eye and mouths _Massage?_ with a grin, and presses his toes in harder to Ryan's leg. Ryan's eyes flutter shut as Spencer flushes brighter and stares down at his lap.

Apparently Ryan's not finished. 'Wonder where that futon is now?' he muses. 'Don't think it's in my apartment. Maybe it's in yours. We should find it; Brendon can give us massages every day with his feet. Like those weird Thai massages, only better. I had one of them once. When'd you learn to do massages, Brendon? This is _really_ good. Really – _oh_, yeah. Feels really – hey. Hey, what are you stopping for?'

'Ryan,' Spencer says, sounding a little horrified. 'Ryan, stop talking.'

'Hmm?' Ryan opens his eyes. 'What's the matter?'

'Are you – ' Brendon coughs, 'are you all right, Ryan?'

Ryan frowns and sits up straighter. Brendon swings his legs away from him. 'I was better just now,' says Ryan, 'but yeah, why wouldn't I be? I'm – um, I'm ...'

Brendon winces sympathetically as Ryan's voice trails off.

'Oh god,' says Ryan. 'Oh god, what.'

Brendon risks a glance at him. Ryan's staring wide-eyed at Spencer, a pink flush creeping over his nose and forehead. He darts a look at Brendon – Brendon blinks – and Jon, who wrinkles his nose and shrugs, then back to Spencer.

'Did,' Ryan starts, 'did I – what, what. Did I just talk about giving you a _massage_? Because, because Spence, why would I do that, why would I possibly start doing that?' He turns to Brendon. 'And – I was – '

'Moaning,' Jon supplies helpfully from the other side of Spencer, ducking behind him when Brendon and Ryan both turn to glare at him. 'Just saying,' he mutters.

'Er,' says Brendon, trying to sort his thoughts out. 'Er, Ryan. Are you – are you okay, dude?'

Ryan whips his head around. 'Okay? Okay like, this is a good show, okay? Or okay like we've been smoking up all day okay? Or like I've been having really, really great sex all night – wow, it's been a long time since I had sex. A _really_ long time. Hmm. That's a shame. I love sex.'

Brendon wonders if his mouth is hanging open.

' ... thought I was getting somewhere with that tech – you know, the one with weird eyes? But she said I was too into – someone else. She didn't say who. I wonder who she meant? I spend all my time with you losers. You're not really losers; you're my best friends. God, I miss sex. I _really_ miss sex. Hey, maybe – '

Spencer slaps his palm over Ryan's mouth.

No one says anything for a moment then Spencer lets out his breath loudly. He leaves his hand over Ryan's mouth as he glances sideways. 'Right,' he says uselessly. 'So. We've got two Brendons.'

Brendon blinks.

No one says anything. Brendon stares at Ryan, still prevented from talking by Spencer's hand. His eyes are wide and uncertain.

'All right,' says Spencer. 'I'm going to take my hand away. No one say anything. Particularly you,' he directs at Brendon, who spreads his arms in a _who me?_ gesture. Spencer shoots a look at Jon, then lowers his hand, wincing.

Everyone fixes their eyes on Ryan. Ryan sits tense and frozen for a moment, gaze darting between Brendon on one side and Jon and Spencer on the other.

The silence stretches out.

Ryan opens his mouth a little – everyone flinches and he shuts it again, raising his eyebrows. Brendon winks at him.

'Maybe ...' says Jon hopefully at the same time as Spencer asks, 'Is it – ?'

Brendon shakes his head. 'You need to like, ask him something,' he says. 'So he can't avoid answering. Um. Hey, Ryan, should I cut my hair?'

'No,' says Ryan.

Brendon waits for a moment then turns back to Spencer and Jon with a triumphant expression.

'I like your hair as it is,' continues Ryan. Brendon huffs and looks at his feet. 'It's soft. And silky, really silky – like a puppy's fur, you know? A bit like Marley's is, only lighter. And it smells nicer. I like your hair more than Marley's fur; I like running my hands through it. Do you like that? You go really still sometimes when I'm doing it, it's –'

Spencer grabs Ryan by the elbow and drags him up and off the couch. He pulls him through the lounge to the bunks, shoving him through the door and saying, 'In,' over Ryan's musings, then turns around and points a finger at Brendon. 'You,' he says. 'Not a word.' He points at Jon. 'You, make sure he doesn't come in.' Jon makes a face and Spencer considers. 'There's a box of Capri Suns behind the couch,' he says, 'use them. And – ' he grabs something off the floor and tosses it at Jon. Jon raises his eyebrows; it's a spare guitar strap – 'that too.' He backs into the bunks after Ryan, shouting, 'Not a _word_, Urie,' as he slams the door.

Jon and Brendon look at each other, bemused, and Brendon runs his eye down to the guitar strap in Jon's hands. Jon grins and snaps it loudly.

They're only gone for a couple of minutes before the door bangs open and Spencer walks through it. 'Right,' he says breathlessly, cheeks flushed, 'that's not going to work.' He drops down on the sofa next to Jon without looking at either of them.

Brendon and Jon share an amused look before glancing back at the doorway. Ryan's hovering uncertainly in the middle of it, his cheeks as pink as Spencer's. He looks like he's biting down on the inside of his mouth.

'Uh,' begins Brendon intelligently then yelps when Jon digs his elbow into his side. 'Not a word,' Jon reminds him, and turns towards Spencer. 'So?'

Spencer coughs. 'Me and him – it's better if we're all here, actually.'

Jon rolls his eyes. 'Fine.' He looks up at Ryan in the doorway. 'Do you want to – uh.' Jon snaps his mouth shut, considering, then turns to Brendon. 'Ryan could come in, if he wanted,' he says. Ryan shuffles into the room but doesn't say anything, and Jon smiles.

'I don't know what to do,' says Spencer bluntly. 'Any time we talk to him, he's going to start – spouting off at us.'

'"Spouting off"?' repeats Ryan and Jon groans. 'What are you trying to say? I'm not a bathroom fixture. I just can't stop _talking_. You try it, opening your mouth and everything spilling out. Like a shower. Fuck, I'm turning into a shower, aren't I? I'm a human shower. I don't want to be a shower! I want to be a boy –a man, I mean, I'm a man, I'm twenty-two. Even if I'm turning into a shower. Can showers have sex? Wow, that's horrible. And I'm talking about sex _again_.'

Brendon coughs, grinning, and Ryan makes a face. 'Maybe I should get a gag,' he frowns. 'Not for sex, for the talking.' He stops, considering. 'Maybe for sex.' Brendon chokes.

'_Anyway_,' says Spencer loudly, and Ryan looks up, startled, flushing a brilliant red when Brendon catches his eye. He gapes wordlessly for a second then fumbles around on the floor. He jams his earphones in and spins the dial on his iPod until something loud and angry starts blasting across the room. His face is very red; Brendon doesn't think it's just embarrassment. He bites his lip.

Spencer clears his throat. 'Yeah,' he says, 'like that.'

Brendon looks away from Ryan.

'I guess we just – don't talk to him,' says Jon, sounding uncomfortable.

Brendon laughs. Spencer glances at Jon and doesn't say anything, and Brendon's mouth drops open. 'You're being serious? I – that's ridiculous.'

Spencer raises his eyebrows. 'Do you have any better ideas?'

Brendon opens his mouth then shuts it again, staring at Ryan. He's watching them miserably, the wires of his iPod trailing across the floor and his hands twisting in knots in his lap.

Brendon turns back to Spencer. 'But,' he says, 'we can't – it's _Ryan_, I can't just – just not talk to him, that's fucking – _Spence._'

Spencer's voice is bitter when he replies, 'Well, then, we could try not talking at all. Then Ryan won't have _anything_ to talk back to. Would that be easier?'

Brendon doesn't answer, just sends an unhappy glance across the room. Ryan's staring listlessly at the floor, his music still blaring. Brendon wonders if Ryan would even notice if someone turned it off.

On an impulse, Brendon scrambles off the couch and crosses the lounge to flop down next to Ryan on the floor. He lifts the iPod out of Ryan's limp fingers and turns it down, chastising him lightly, and Ryan looks at him with huge eyes.

Brendon lays the iPod down carefully on the floor, then slips his arm snug under Ryan's and tangles their fingers, leaning into Ryan's collarbone. 'It'll be okay,' he says easily and rubs his thumb in circles on the back of Ryan's hand. 'We'll fix it, you'll see.'

Ryan doesn't say anything for a moment. He lifts his free hand to his mouth and bites down hard on his knuckle. 'I know,' he says, a little muffled, and blinks nervously. He beams when the silence continues. Brendon grins at him.

 

*

 

They decide to talk using charades. 'That'll confuse the fans,' grins Jon, 'how do you think they'll interpret the songs?'

Thirty minutes and a madly blushing Ryan later, they switch to cue cards. 'Names on red, everyday objects on green, questions on blue and insults on yellow,' explains Spencer as he doles out the cards, 'nothing left for obscure philosophers or song lyrics; sorry, Ryan.'

'Damn it,' whispers Brendon, but not quietly enough. Ryan scowls at him and refuses to look at the cards.

'AHA,' crows Brendon after they've sat in glum silence for a while. 'Sign language!' Brendon beams around the room and is met with three blank stares. 'Didn't you ever learn how to sign the alphabet?' he asks incredulously. 'I always wanted to use it in class.'

'Did you?' asks Spencer interestedly, and Brendon rolls his eyes at him before continuing. 'But, we could make it work – I can teach it to you now, or – we could _make up our own language_, like, drawing a 'p' on your palm to mean Pete and on the back of your hand for Patrick, and tapping your wrist four times to mean all of them – it'll be like a secret code.'

'We'll turn into an Enid Blyton story,' grins Ryan. 'Kids all across the world will be reading about us shimmying down drainpipes and camping on beaches – '

Jon smiles. 'Sneaking around in the dark after men with guns – no, _revolvers_ – '

'Midnight feasts in rock pools – '

' Uncovering dastardly plots – ' Brendon sweeps an invisible cloak over his shoulder.

' – and throwing pebbles at each other's bedroom windows,' finishes Spencer, smirking.

'I did that once,' remarks Ryan thoughtfully. 'When I was fourteen, I never told you. My dad came home early and I didn't have credit, so I threw pebbles at your window.'

Spencer makes a face. 'Did you think of trying the doorbell, by any chance? I hear that can get quite good results in that kind of situation.'

'No one answered.' Ryan frowns. 'I think you were all upstairs. It's harder than it looks, throwing pebbles at windows. I kept hitting the gutter by accident. So I tried to climb on top of your mom's shed and like, wave at you or something, but it was raining too much; it was too slippery. I was waiting ages, hoping you'd look out and see me. That's when I sprained my wrist, you know – because I fell off the roof. Fuck, that hurt like a bitch.' Ryan goes quiet abruptly, staring at his hands in his lap.

'You told me,' Spencer's voice scrapes rough through the silence. 'You told me you fell off your bike.'

Ryan hmms. 'Yeah, I know. I was out there for hours; I didn't want you to know. I didn't –' Ryan stops, then repeats in a sharp voice, 'I didn't want you to know. Fuck, _fuck_, I'm sorry, Spence, I – '

'I didn't,' replies Spencer. 'I didn't know, Ryan. Can you two – '

'Yes,' say Jon immediately. Brendon frowns but slips off the couch to follow Jon to the door, then hesitates. He thinks for a second and turns around. 'Spence,' he says, taking a couple of steps back into the room. Ryan and Spencer look up at him together, twin expressions of misery on their faces. Brendon scuffs his feet on the linoleum and thinks of Ryan waiting in the rain.

'I don't – I think you should wait until Ryan's gotten back to normal. Until he can decide what he wants to tell you. Or, or not. It's – not fair, otherwise.' Ryan opens his mouth, eyes narrowed, and Brendon continues hastily, 'I know you won't do anything wrong, or ask him anything shitty, or anything, but – but, you know?'

Spencer swallows. 'Yeah,' he says after a moment. 'You're right. I'm – I'm going to go talk to the driver, okay? See if we can have a break soon.' He clambers to his feet, then leans down and hugs Ryan, brief and tight. He says something into Ryan's ear as he's drawing away and Ryan blinks. He brings his hand up to his mouth and bites down on his knuckle, squeezing his eyes shut at the same time.

Brendon waits for Spencer to walk out of the room with Jon then sits back down on the couch. He wraps his arms tight around Ryan's shoulders. 'Ryan,' he whispers, 'it's okay. You're okay and so's Spencer and it's not your fault, any of it.' Brendon shakes Ryan gently. 'All right? This _isn't your fault_.'

Brendon carries on whispering reassuringly into Ryan's ear. Ryan breathes out shakily, pressing his face into Brendon's neck, and Brendon tightens his arms.

 

*

 

They stop at a gas station and Ryan attaches himself to Spencer as they walk around the store. Spencer picks up a handful of magazines and glares furiously at anyone that looks Ryan's way, and by the time they get back on the bus, everything seems fine again.

Brendon fiddles around making playlists on his laptop when they start driving, and lets the music play quietly in the lounge to cover up the silence. A few songs in, Brendon's eyes light up. '_Billie Jean!_' he says excitedly. 'I haven't heard this in fucking ages, oh my god.' Brendon jumps to his feet and starts spinning through the room, tripping over his feet and ending up in a heap at Ryan's feet. 'Huh,' he blinks, and Ryan tilts his head at him, grinning. _Smooth_, he mouths. Brendon laughs.

'Your turn to make coffee, MJ,' says Spencer, idly flicking a page in his magazine. Brendon clambers to his feet and moonwalks through the lounge to the kitchen, blowing a kiss at Ryan as he passes.

Brendon continues humming as he shuffles through the kitchen, tapping the countertops in time to the song. He grabs four mugs out of the sink as he passes, then stops and sniffs inside one of them carefully. He drops all four hastily back in the sink with a grimace and glances around the kitchen.

'Mugs,' he mutters and starts flinging open cabinet doors, 'mugs, mugs, glorious – mugs – '

Brendon stutters into silence, staring bemusedly into the cabinet in front of him. _What the – _

Brendon narrows his eyes. 'Spence!' he yells back into the lounge. 'Are you fucking with me, or what?'

'I'm always fucking with you, Urie. You just never realise it,' comes Spencer's reply. 'Does ickle Brenniekins need teaching how to use a coffee-maker?'

Brendon frowns. 'We've been invaded,' he calls, peering through the other cabinets.

'Ants or aliens?' asks Jon.

'Neither; gingerbread men.'

'Ah, nothing we can't defend ourselves against, then.'

Brendon raises his eyebrows as he eyes all the Tupperware containers dotted around the kitchen. 'I dunno,' he says, 'there's a whole load of them here. They'd probably do quite well against us if they ganged up on us all at once.'

Jon appears in the doorway and Brendon turns around to face him. Jon's jaw drops. 'What – when did all this get here? I was in here like, five minutes ago. '

Brendon shakes his head, frowning. 'Don't know,' he says, and rips the lid off the closest container. He takes a cookie and bites the head off thoughtfully, ignoring Jon's horrified spluttering, then mumbles, 'Tastes good, though. Kind of like – '

Brendon drops the cookie and he feels his eyes go wide. Jon makes a face at him. 'What's up?'

Brendon gapes at him for a moment then tumbles into the lounge. 'Ryan,' he says breathlessly, 'Ryanryanryanryan.'

Ryan blinks across the room at him. Brendon spares half a moment to hope that he's not completely off the mark with this then blurts, 'What did you wish for? Last night?'

Ryan stares blankly at him for a moment. Then he starts scrabbling frantically through the cushions, saying, 'No, no, don't ask me that, Brendon – I don't, you don't, that's not _fair_ \- ' Ryan sends a desperate look at Spencer, jamming his fingers into his mouth.

'Brendon,' Spencer says warningly and Brendon cuts in over the top, 'Because I wished for gingerbread, and we didn't stop for it and no one made it and now there's fucking – fucking _towers_ of it in the kitchen, and – Ryan – '

Ryan looks forlornly down at his iPod. He drops it back into the cushions and takes his fingers out of his mouth. 'I wished,' he says quietly, and stops.

Brendon crosses his fingers.

Ryan looks back at him. His gaze is clear and very warm, and Brendon feels his breath hitch in his chest.

'I wished I could tell you how much I like you,' Ryan says steadily. 'And – I _really_ like you.'

Brendon can feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 'You,' he clears his throat, 'you like me.'

Ryan shrugs. He shakes his head until his hair flops into his eyes, flushing high on his cheekbones.

Spencer is darting looks between them with an exasperated look on his face. Brendon doesn't care. He crosses the room quickly and stops in front of Ryan, hovering awkwardly until Ryan looks up at him. 'Ryan,' he says, 'oh my god, I've – Ryan, I've had a crush on you since forever, you _like_ me? _Really_, really?'

Ryan stares at him through his hair. 'Yeah,' he says, and bites down on his lip as if he's trying to hide a smile, 'really.' Brendon's heart tries to beat in double time.

'You,' he says, then gives up on talking and steps forwards to slip into Ryan's lap, knees on either side of him. Brendon reaches up to smooth the hair away from Ryan's eyes, leaving his hands tangled in his hair and smiling hugely, and Ryan drops his hands down to Brendon's hips.

'I think,' Ryan starts, and Brendon leans forwards to press his lips to Ryan's. Ryan stutters in surprise but sighs into the kiss, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of Brendon's neck, and Brendon tightens his fingers in Ryan's hair. He can feel Ryan's heart pounding against his chest and wonders if his is beating as fast.

Jon coughs from the doorway and Ryan pulls back, blushing. Brendon beams at him, running his gaze over Ryan's reddened lips and bright, bright eyes, and says without looking, 'This better be good, Walker.'

Jon snorts a laugh. 'Just wondering,' he says, and Brendon can hear the smile in his voice, 'does this mean Ryan's cured?'

They blink at each other, surprised. 'Um,' Brendon says, and darts a kiss because he can't not, really; not with Ryan looking at him all uncertainly like that. 'Are you?' he asks.

Ryan swallows. 'I ... maybe?' he says.

'Tell them about your first kiss with a guy,' Spencer suggests from the other couch, 'that's a good story.'

Ryan looks horrified. 'Fuck off,' he says, his cheeks burning. He buries his head in Brendon's neck and Brendon laughs, dropping his hands a little to shield Ryan from the others. Then he pulls back. 'Ryan!' he says brightly, 'you stopped talking!'

Ryan's head pops back up. He stares wide-eyed at Brendon, then Jon, and finally turns to Spencer. 'You were going to make me talk about that?' he accuses. 'You are a _bad friend_, Spencer Smith.'

Spencer shrugs. 'You didn't, though, did you,' he points out, and Ryan makes a face.

Brendon huffs. 'I think I'd like to hear that story,' he says hopefully, 'you want to tell it anyway, Ryan?'

Ryan rolls his eyes. He lets Brendon take his hand and twist their fingers together, shaking his head at the same time. 'Is that really what you want me to talk about?' he asks. 'Now I can choose what I say, you want me to talk about some other guy?'

Brendon blinks. 'Huh. Good point.' He smiles. 'We should talk more about you wishing you could tell me how much you liked me.'

'Yes,' says Spencer in a disgruntled voice, 'and maybe come up with ways for you to do it that don't involve _forgetting how not to talk_.' Jon laughs.

'_When you wish upon a star,_' hums Brendon thoughtfully. 'Does that make me your heart's desire? Or a dream come true?'

Spencer splutters in the background. Brendon ignores him, looking at Ryan questioningly.

Ryan smiles, warm and sweet, and kisses the corner of Brendon's mouth. 'Both,' he says lightly, and Brendon beams, delighted.


End file.
